


Hawkins Holiday Special

by StarMaamMke



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Christmas prompts, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-08-25 14:35:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16662709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarMaamMke/pseuds/StarMaamMke
Summary: Jopper Christmas prompts from my tumblr blog, starmaammke. Updated as prompts are finished.





	1. Thin Walls

“No, no, no…” Joyce moaned as she scanned the picked over deli section. It had been the very last thing on her list, and of course she had put if off until the last possible minute. Taking over Flo’s duties at the police station had made her free time scarce, moreso than it had when she had been working weekends and holidays at Melvald’s. How was she to know that the Department Christmas party was supposed to be on her shoulders? Flo had been a one woman planning committee and no one had told Joyce that it was a huge part of her job description. 

“It’s okay, Mom. We can just… have sandwiches,” Will assured her as his heart sank. His mother had never been much of a cook, and rotisserie chicken had been part of their Christmas tradition for as far back as he could remember. 

“Sandwiches? For Christmas?” Joyce shook her heavy mane, and heaved a shaky sigh. “Jesus.”

“Something wrong?” A low voice rumbled from behind. Joyce turned and gave Jim Hopper a weak smile. 

“Oh nothing, just me failing as a parent.”

Jim frowned as he observed the empty display that usually held rotisserie chicken. 

“There’s plenty of turkeys an aisle over. I just picked up a great big one for me and El.”

Joyce expelled a thin, mirthless laugh. “Sure, because I’m Julia Childs.”

“Child,” Jim corrected with a smirk. “You know… this bird is a little big for two people. Much too big. I’ll get sick of leftover sandwiches, and then it will probably go to waste.”

Will crossed his arms over his chest, a thoughtful expression lighting up his serious face. “That new house is pretty big too. Lots of room. Maybe enough to add three more guests.”

Joyce gave Will’s arm a playful swat. “Don’t invite yourself over to someone else’s house. I raised you better than that.”

“Did you invite them?” El approached the trio, pushing a cart filled with a mix of holiday staples, frozen waffles, and instant dinners. “You said you were going to.”

Jim blushed deeply, covering a smiling mouth with a gloved hand. “Give me a second, kid.”

Joyce raised her eyebrows at the exchange. “What’s going on?”

“Well,” Jim began, his hands going to his hips as he rocked back and forth for a few beats. “The kid and I were going to ask you anyway, and since it seems your plans are a little up in the air, I think it would be a great idea. I picked out some stuff for the three of you when we were shopping the other day, so…”

“You didn’t have to do that!” Joyce snapped lightly, knowing full well there were presents for El and Jim at home waiting to be wrapped. Nothing extravagant, just an old-fashioned shaving kit with a leather strop for Jim, and some outfits and a charm bracelet for El. 

“Come on, Mom!” Will pleaded, his eyes darting towards El, a conspiratorial look between the two of them.

Joyce shrugged. “I’m clearly outvoted.”

“You could even stay the night!” El added. “And you don’t have to pretend to stay on the couch like Dad does when we visit you two.”

“Kid!” Jim growled. Joyce hid her face behind her hands.

“The walls are thin,” Will whispered, his gaze fixed on the floor as his cheeks turned bright red. “Really thin.”


	2. Smitty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joyce gets a dog.

“He was a good dog,” Jim Hopper remarked solemnly as he and Joyce gave the little makeshift cross one more longing look. The last box was almost packed, and Joyce, Will, and sometimes Jonathan were three miles away from being a part of the Hopper house on a permanent basis. 

“It’s been two years, but I’m sad that we’re going to be so far away from him,” Joyce replied in a small, tight voice. 

Jim cleared his throat. He knew how much Joyce loved that dog… dogs in general.

“Well, El has Heathcliff, so if you get lonely you can just give him a cuddle.” Heathcliff was El’s cat, a rotund, elderly tabby that hated everyone but the kid. Jim respected that cat, they left each other well enough alone, but there was no mistaking the wrinkle in Joyce’s nose at the mention of the cat.

“Sure, Hop.”

Goddamn Rex. Jim would’ve taken the dog with if it was alive. He was absolutely not a dog person, but Joyce was. Damn dogs. They followed you around; they whined; chewed up your slippers; loved you no matter what.

_________

He wasn’t going to do it, except a new shelter opened up across town and they bought television ad space and was somehow getting away with playing “The River” by Bruce Springsteen over images of sad, quivering big eyed mutts, and Joyce got so teary-eyed every time that manipulative commercial popped on when all he wanted to do was watch “Magnum PI” in goddamn peace and quiet.

So, he took the kids down to the shelter on Christmas Eve and they eyed up the line of kennels until a teenage German-Shepard mix with big old bat ears, black fur and a missing eye tugged so hard at Jim’s heartstrings that he damn near welled up in the shelter in front of God, the volunteers, and the kids. 

“Come on home, Smitty,” Jim invited hoarsely as he opened the door to his Blazer.  Maybe the pathetic beastie would keep the house safe, Jim thought, until Heathcliff immediately took a chunk out of the poor boy’s nose and sent him whining and shivering behind the couch, where he stayed until Joyce got home from work. 

“You didn’t!” Joyce cried. Jim thought she was upset until she made a beeline for the dog, and it towards her. Beast and lady collapsed into a teary, playful heap in front of the Christmas tree, Joyce clinging to Smitty and burying her face against his pitch fur. When she looked up at Jim, her cheeks were pink and her amber eyes shining with happy tears, her smile so wide he thought it would break her face.

Maybe he was a dog person after all.

 

 


	3. Silence.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here be smut.

“You hear that?” Jim Hopper asked, his low voice rumbling pleasantly in Joyce Byers’ ear as they cuddled on the couch, hot toddies steaming on the coffee table in front of them. Joyce hummed sleepily and lifted her head from his shoulder. The house was absolutely silent, save for the soft snoring emanating from the dog and cat. No giggling floating from the upstairs, no music…

Silence.

“Hmm.”

Joyce giggled when she felt Jim’s beard bristle against the side of her neck as he pressed hot little kisses against it, dragging his teeth along the tender flesh. She pressed her palms against his chest and gave him a little push as he attempted to press her back against the cushions of the couch.

“Come on and deck my halls, baby,” he pleaded, eliciting a snort from her as she rolled from the couch and onto the floor. She ducked his swiping hand as she pulled herself to her feet. 

“Not here, you animal,” she scolded with a ‘tsk’. She smirked when Jim whined, and shook her head before crooking her finger. “Come on, you.”

He followed her upstairs, and she barely had time to close the door to the bedroom before he had her up against the adjacent wall, his kisses hungry and his hands wandering as he urged her to wrap her legs about his waist. 

“Incorrigible.” Joyce remarked before sighing as his hands found their way under her blouse and bra, his calloused thumbs brushing her nipples. 

“I just want you all of the time…” Jim murmured hoarsely against her ear before nipping at the lobe. “God, I never want to stop wanting you like this.”

“It’s the booze,” Joyce replied dryly, wriggling out of his arms and stepping to one side so she could tug her top and bra over her head and throw them to one side. 

Jim shook his head as he appreciated the view, one hand drifting downwards so he could adjust the growing ache pressing against the front of his jeans. “No, it’s always like this. All day. All of the time.” 

Joyce blushed, feeling more than a little empowered by his admission. It had been so long since she had been wanted to viscerally. Lonnie had been an indifferent lover, and Bob had been too polite to be so honest. Jim was a walking appetite, willing to consume her at a moment’s notice.

“Santa Baby…” she purred, attempting her best Eartha Kitt as her hands drifted to the waist band of her skirt. She shimmied out of it, letting the forest-green fabric pool to the floor at her feet. She stepped out daintily and swayed her hips as she sauntered to their king-sized bed. Her musical number was cut off with a gasp as he moved swiftly behind her, the evidence of his arousal pressing against the small of her back as one large hand slid over a breast to toy with her aching nipple, another hand sliding past her abdomen and under the silky fabric of her panties. Her head tilted back when his forefinger slid between her already soaked folds and toyed with her clitoris. 

“I love you. Sweet fuck, I love you so much,” Jim murmured as he manipulated the swollen mound of flesh. His hand moved from her breast and he prompted her to rest her elbows against the mattress. When she tried to turn, he placed his hand on the back of her neck. 

“Uh-uh, just like this,” Jim ordered. 

Her panties were soon around her ankles and his cock slid into her slick opening, stretching and filling her tightness with a grunt. Joyce dug her fingers into the sheets, desperate to take hold of something as he started to thrust against her. 

“Fuck,” she whined, her thighs beginning to quiver as he added more force. Soon, she was too weak to stand and she found herself face down on the mattress as he continued to snap his hips against her ass, his hands coming to rest, palms down on the mattress so he didn’t crush her with his weight. Her cries were muffled as a gush of warmth flooded her thighs, coating his cock with her need. “I’m coming,” she whimpered.

“So I gathered… Ah fuck!” He followed her shortly after before rolling breathlessly onto his back.

“And a happy New Year,” Joyce murmured as her muscles quivered with the aftershocks of her climax. Jim’s raucous laughter was smothered against the crook of her neck.


	4. Christmas Eve 1984

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hopper and Joyce just want their kids to have a good damn Christmas.

Joyce said she wanted to show the kid what a family Christmas looked like, but Jim knew that was only part of it. Adding two plates to the table, and planning a bigger meal; cleaning a house; making sure all the whistles and bells were in place took away more and more of those sneaky, sinister quiet moments that left her alone with her thoughts and inevitably took her back to the terror, and the screaming, and the gore, and Bob. 

But it sure was nice that it meant Jim didn’t have to spin a pretty little yuletide picture all by himself. He was good at rigging traps, and dispensing practical wisdom… hell, even dress shopping for a school dance, but holidays were rough as a general rule, and it wouldn’t be fair to El if he subjected her to his usual Child Died Near the Holidays misery spiral. Between him and Joyce, he reckoned they had the holiday cheer of one whole person. They had to try. There were three kids to consider.

All told, Christmas Eve went pretty well. The meal was nice, Chinese take-out and pizza with the promise of a home-cooked breakfast and lunch the next day. Joyce’s traditions prevailed, and El was allowed to open one present, as was the boys. Will informed El that the gift pile wasn’t usually that large, and quizzed Jim and Joyce about the fact.

“Well… we got a bit of a payout from the lab. Again.” Joyce bit her lower lip and cast her wide brown eyes towards the tree, green and red lights reflecting off of her suspiciously damp orbs. 

“And I picked up a few things for you and Jonathan,” Jim added, scooting closer to Joyce on the couch and covering her small, tremulous hand with his large, steady one and giving it a squeeze. 

 _I’ve got you, Horowitz…_ Hetried to convey the sentiment with a soft look when their eyes met. The corners of her mouth quivered and pulled into a ghost of a grateful smile. 

Hours later, when everyone retreated to their respective resting places and Jim squirmed and shivered on a sofa that had seen better days, Joyce padded into the living room, wrapped in a thin robe and wearing a crooked smile.

“No luck on the sleep?” Jim inquired lowly. 

“Never. Smoke?”

Jim sat and scooted to one side. Joyce joined him, and pulled an ashtray from the side table, setting it on the middle of the coffee table before offering her open pack of Camels to Jim. 

Her hair smelled like coconuts and gardenias, and he fought hard not to lean in and inhale the odd combination as it clung to her riotous mass of auburn. To his surprise, she tucked her legs beneath her on the sofa and leaned her head against his shoulder. His immediate response was to lift and reposition his arm so he could pull her closer, and the naturalness of the maneuver bowled him over even moreso. 

“Don’t fall asleep like that, you’ll burn the house down,” He murmured when the silence between them grew and her breathing began to deepen and slow.

“Hmm?” He felt her head jerk a bit, as though physically fighting sleep. She gave a little yawn that tugged hard at his heart, and extinguished her cigarette. “Guess I am sleepy.” 

Jim watched with a bereft, and lonely twist in his stomach as she stood, stretched, and started for the bedroom. He furrowed his brow when she paused, stared down the hallway, and took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Hey…” he began.

“Will you come with me? I’ve been having a hard time and I…” She trailed off just as he appeared at her side, taking her hand in his and leading her towards the bedroom. She did not protest the gesture.

For two people who were so mismatched in height it was almost comical, they fit together with ease - not in the biblical sense, of course, that was far from Jim’s thoughts (not so far that it couldn’t wave promisingly within his sights if he got drunk and squinted…), but in the falling asleep sort of way. Joyce immediately pressed her back against Jim’s chest, and tugged at his hand until his heavy arm fell over her frame protectively. 

Jim listened to her breathing, became attuned to the way it once again slowed with exhaustion. It was hypnotic, and he soon found his eyes growing heavy. Before sleep took him, and once Joyce’s soft little snores indicated that it had gotten her, he pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to the top of her head. His heart felt a little lighter than it had over countless past Christmas Eves, and a traitorous, hopeful voice whispered that maybe the Christmases after would be even more spectacular. 


	5. Ties that Bind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hal Horowitz is coming to visit his daughter.

“Tighter,” Joyce urged breathlessly, sweat on her brow, cheeks pink, and face full of fly away strands of hair as she stooped over a king-sized mattress.

“Fuck sake, woman, you’re killing me here,” Jim growled as he untucked the periwinkle, fitted sheet and set about readjusting it. “Your dad is barely going to be in this room, he’ll be so busy poking his fool head in the others so he can judge the way I’m keeping you.”

Joyce snorted. “’Keeping’ me? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. I hung these outside for a bit this morning, right? He likes it when the sheets are a little chilly… should I do it again?”

Jim groaned as he stepped behind Joyce to massage her shoulders. She was tense as a drum, and the cause was enough to make him spit. Hal Horowitz had been a hateful drunk and an indifferent father when Joyce was growing up - his only saving grace was that the old man hated Lonnie more than he hated Jim, but only slightly. 

Jim always had a special place in Horowitz Hell for being Joyce’s ‘debaucher’, a term Hal liked to throw around after he married his Tammy Faye-lookalike of a holy roller wife, Imogene Leigh. It was the grand lady herself who had walked in on the then teenagers in a compromising position on hers and Hal’s wedding day. It had gotten Joyce out of bridesmaid duty, plus a bonfire out the gingham monstrosity Jim had pushed up her hips to perform said debauching. Neither youths had been particularly remorseful about the turn of events. 

“Why are you rolling out the red carpet? He hasn’t been to see you in years, not since the divorce. Who cares about his stupid sheets?’

Joyce’s delicate shoulders shrugged beneath his palms, and a tell-tale sigh had Jim turning her about so he could cup her face between his hands and press kisses against her forehead, the tip of her nose, and her lips. 

“He’s lonely now Imogene’s dead. He’s old, and regretful, and I don’t want to hold grudges. He’s the only grandparent the boys have, and the new house is big enough for-”

“Hey, shhh… I’m stupid. I’m sorry, and you don’t have to explain anything to me.” He pulled her into a tight embrace, and continued to placate her with comforting nothings as she sniffled against his chest. 

_________

“That one looks a fair bit like you, Joycie. You’ve got something to tell me?”

El cast an astonished look towards Joyce and her father as she found herself under the scrutiny of a wrinkled, tiny old man who smelled faintly of moth balls, peppermint, and rubbing alcohol. 

“No, I don’t. Jane and Will are a few months apart, so that would be impossible.”

“She’s definitely mine, biologically, but she’s-”

“She’s our sister,” Will stated, cutting Jim off as he glared at a man he hadn’t seen since he was a toddler. 

“Hmm. Stone-faced one looks a fair bit like you, Jimmy. But I’ve always said that,” Hal intoned, his watery brown eyes fixing on Jonathan. 

“So did Imogene. Constantly, and in front of Lonnie,” Joyce shot back. 

“Not that it matters, good riddance,” Hal muttered.

“Not that it matters,” Joyce echoed.

“He talking about Lonnie or Imogene?” Jim whispered under his breath. Joyce elbowed him in the side before walking over to her father and embracing him. 

“Merry Christmas, Dad.”

Hal accepted the embrace with uncharacteristic warmth before hobbling over to Jonathan, and Will. Jonathan shook his hand, but Will - ever the diplomat- gave his grandpa a hug. A wary nod was shared between the old man and El, before Hal stood in front of Jim, the two men sizing each other up. 

“Damn nice house, Jimmy. Your kid is real sweet.”

“Thanks, Hal.”

“Joyce looks happy. Will looks happy. Jonathan’s face sticks that way because I told him it would when he was a baby, but I’m sure he’s happy.”

“I’m happy, Pa.”

Hal nodded curtly.

“Well, good job, Jimmy. Merry Christmas and all.”

Jim gave a sharp exhale when his goblin of a future in-law embraced him suddenly and with great force. His eyes met Joyce’s and he helplessly mouthed ‘Don’t cry’, but it was to no avail. 


	6. Christmas 1984 Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then there's Lonnie.

Continuation of Christmas 1984 Prompt 

______

Joyce woke on Christmas morning, her face burrowed against something warm, solid, and… hairy? She lifted her head to see the slumbering face of Jim Hopper, peaceful and smiling softly, and the memory of the night before came flooding back. She had been a needy mess and he, ever the touchstone, had come to her assistance. Her big protector. 

“Hop… you better get up before the kids get ideas.”

Hopper snorted hard, and sat up, nearly smacking Joyce with his chest. He shot her an apologetic smile.

“Best sleep I’ve had in a while,” he yawned. “How about you?”

“Like a stone,” she murmured, stretching her arms over her head. 

They sat in silence for a moment, observing one another with sleep-heavy eyes. It had all been very innocent, neither trespassing where they knew they ought not, but Joyce still felt suddenly shy, and she pushed the errant strands of hair from her face so she could rub her eyes. 

“Merry Christmas,” she said, finally. 

“Merry Christmas.”

Thankfully, they were the first two people awake in the house as they ventured quietly into the living room. Joyce padded into the kitchen and turned on the stove so she could prepare the egg bake, while Jim followed after her to get the coffee maker in working order. It was all very domestic, as they worked side-by-side. 

It was all very silent. Too silent.

Jim turned the dial on the radio until he found palatable Christmas music, intent on beginning the process of waking the rest of the house, and filling the long, companionable but awkward quiet. 

“Aye, aye, aye I’m DREAMING OF A WHITE CHRISTMAS…” He crooned suddenly, poorly, and loudly as he poured a cup of coffee for Joyce. She fairly shrieked with surprised laughter at the outburst. 

“Idiot,” she snorted, when he took her two hands in his and took her for a clumsy turn around the kitchen, twirling her for good measure. Once her laughter died down, she stepped into his arms and helped the dance gain a little bit of rhythm and elegance. She tried to ignore the traitorous fluttering in her chest when his hand slid to the middle of her back; the growing heat in her cheeks when their bodies pressed close. 

Will, Jonathan and El watched from the entrance, eyes wide and mouths agape. El was blushing fiercely at the scene.

“What am I feeling?” The girl whispered to Jonathan and Will.

“Embarrassment. You’re feeling embarrassment,” Jonathan informed her. 

“Merry Christmas!” Will shouted, breaking up the scene. 

“Oh, hi, kids,” Joyce gasped, before covering her face with her hands. 

“Don’t be jealous because you ain’t got the moves,” Jim scolded Jonathan as he began pulling chairs and ushering the kids towards them. Jonathan snorted in response.

“Well… isn’t this cozy?” 

Joyce nearly dropped her grandmother’s crystal pitcher, filled to capacity with orange juice, when Lonnie Byers strode into the kitchen by way of the living room. 

“Who is that?” El asked, her brows furrowing as she took in the intruder, plus the four angry faces around her. 

“Who are you?” Lonnie asked with a scoff.

“Mom, you gotta change the lock.” Jonathan’s face was a stony mask of fury. 

“Merry Christmas to you too.”

“Hi, Dad,” Will managed weakly, his features softening somewhat. “This is El. She’s the Chief’s daughter.”

“Funny, she doesn’t look dead.”

Jim started to lunge forward, but Joyce was quicker. In a flash, she was in Lonnie’s face, letting out a tirade of curses while pushing him into the living room and towards the door with a barrage of slaps and surprisingly powerful shoves. 

“Don’t ever come here again, you sonofabitch!” She shrieked, like a Fury of myth. 

“Jesus!” Lonnie exclaimed. He put his hands in front of him defensively and pushed back, Joyce ducked the slap he tried to deliver to his face, but the occupants at the table saw it plain as day. 

Both Jim and El stood, Jonathan grabbed El by the shoulder and pushed her back down into the chair. “No powers,” he hissed. 

No one attempted to stop Jim from charging forward. Lonnie, mindful of the fact that he could overpower one, but not the other, turned tail and fled, narrowly avoiding being grabbed by the collar before he was out the door and stumbling towards his car.

Joyce stepped in front of Jim, and placed gentle palms on his chest. 

“Let him go, let him go,” she urged. Eventually, Jim stopped trying to get past her and slumped his shoulders with a defeated groan.

“Getting you a new lock for Christmas.”

“Okay, but let’s not murder anyone today.” She cupped his face and brought his intense gaze downwards to her. “It’s El’s day. It’s our day. Let’s just be a family.”

Jim’s eyes softened, and the corners of his mouth quirked into a weary smile. 

“I hate it when you’re right, but you’re right. Let’s be a family.”

Joyce didn’t want to read too far into it, to put so much hope into a concept that was too much too soon, but she nodded and allowed herself to embrace the big, angry man. His arms closed around her frame, and they held each other on the porch for a good, long while as the last of their respective rage ebbed and transformed into something warm and comforting.

“MOM THE CASSEROLE IS BURNING!


	7. New Years Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hopper can't keep his big, mopey mouth shut.

**New Year’s Eve 1985**

“You keep staring like that your face is gonna stick… or someone’s going to get a restraining order.”

Jim Hopper pulled himself out of his reverie, and pulled the center of his focus away from the slinky brunette at the other end of the bar, placing it on the balding, bespectacled man sitting to his right. 

“Excuse me?” He frowned as Murray Bauman’s lips stretched and twisted into an unpleasant, vaguely knowing grin, bearing yellowing teeth and unleashing a aroma that smacked of Swisher Sweets and alcohol so cheap and strong it was somewhat antiseptic. 

“Listen, now that we’re friends–”

“We’re not friends. How did you even get an invitation to this thing?” The thing in question was the standing mayor’s New Year’s Eve party at her new home in Loch Nora. 

“What do you mean? I helped save this shitty little town too. Mayor Wheeler loves me… actually, her kid owes me and got me the invitation. I kind of killed a scandal that wouldn’t help the old lady in the upcoming election. Did you know she likes ‘em young?”

Jim grunted and shrugged. “None of my business, really.”

“I hear Joycie likes ‘em old and damaged, nowadays.”

“Don’t call her that, you don’t know her.” 

As if on cue, Joyce, the brunette at the end of the bar, turned from her conversation with Karen Wheeler, acting mayor of Hawkins, and shot Jim a heartbreakingly shy smile - the barest flash of teeth, and brown eyes peeking at him underneath impossibly long lashes. He felt perilously close to swooning, but managed to smile back, waggling the fingers of his uplifted right hand in her direction. 

“I know enough. See you, Chiefo.” Murray stood and waved a hand towards the vacated stool as Joyce approached. Her thick, auburn hair was tamed somewhat, pulled back and up into a curly chignon with wild tendrils falling over her forehead, near her ears, and at the nape of her neck. Her dress was simple, but elegant - black, sleeveless and formfitting, falling just below the knee, and showing just a hint of the small woman’s ample cleavage. It was so strange to see her embrace elegance, and with such ease. Jim’s attention was drawn to her ears, of all things - he always admired how small and dainty they were, how the tops of them were slightly pointed, giving her a distinctly elfish appearance. 

“Hiya, Hop.” Her tone was breezy, friendly, as though she had no earthly idea what her legs in those black heels were doing to him. She glanced around the room and graced him with a puzzled half-smile. “Where’s… where’s that teacher of El’s you’ve been seeing? Jenny?”

“Geri. That’s been finished for ages.” Jim wrinkled his nose and turned his attention to the drink in his hand. It had only been finished for a week, but Jim’s actual investment in the relationship had died about a month into the proceedings. Nice woman, pretty as hell, but she wasn’t…

“Okay.” The indifference in Joyce’s shrug lit a sour little fire in Jim’s gut.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t hit me with your condolences all at once, it’s embarrassing.”

 _I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh Lord_  
And I’ve been waiting for this moment for all my life, oh Lord  
Can you feel it coming in the air tonight, oh Lord, oh Lord …

“‘You look nice in that monkey suit, Hop. Wanna dance?”

“God yes.” He winced at his own overeager response, and scowled at her light chuckle, but set his drink aside and rose to his feet anyway. He was drunk, he suspected she was tipsy at the very least, and all he wanted to do was put his hand on the small of her back and pull her close.

So he did. She was deceptively delicate in his arms, his fingertips tracing the little bumps in her spine as they swayed to the distinctly cynical slow song, and her wrist felt fine and fragile as he cupped it to bring her hand to his chest. 

“Any new prospects?” Joyce whispered, her cheek pressed against the soft, warm material of Jim’s shirtfront. His chest was solid and earthy beneath the fine fabric, his heart beating against her temple, steady and soothing. Such an intimate embrace to be asking glib questions, and Joyce knew it. She didn’t know why she was this way.

“No,” was the only thing Joyce could make out from Jim’s response. The rest was a low mumble. 

“Huh?”

The cold air that filled the space between them after Jim paused and stepped away was slightly jarring. Joyce put her hands on her hips as she gazed up at him with a furrowed, worried expression.

“I said, I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.”

Blood rushed to Joyce’s head so fast she nearly blacked out, her entire body tingled and froze as she regarded the confession. 

“Oh… Geri wasn’t exactly a stranger. You met her at orientation.” What is WRONG with you? Joyce’s brain shrieked.

“Did you hear what I just said?”

“Yes, and I…”

The music cut off, and Joyce was momentarily blinded by a wild show of multicolored lights filling the dance floor. The countdown was starting.

“Yes, and I think that–”

FIVE

FOUR

THREE

TWO

“One.” Joyce gripped Jim’s shirtfront with both hands, pulling him down to her level so their teeth could clash together unpleasantly before he took over, lifting her up by the waist, coaxing her arms about his neck, and breathing her in as their lips parted and met.


	8. O Christmas Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which El learns about Christmas.

**December**

**1984**

“It’s gone!” El “Jane” Hopper cried in agony as she threw open the door to the cabin. Jim dropped the box of waffle mix he was holding, swearing as a beige cloud of powder exploded all over the linoleum.

“Jesus Christ! Wipe your boots for god sake, Joyce just did the floors - I thought you were still in bed!”

El obeyed, and then set a rickety looking birdhouse onto the side table before shrugging off her winter coat with a dejected look on her face. “Someone chopped it down!”

“Chopped what down?”

“My bird tree! I was going to hang the house Joyce and I made together, we even picked out the tree because it was perfect but now it’s gone!” 

The floor beneath Jim’s feet began to tremble, the plates that were packed precariously into the dish drainer chattering together, as he sensed the beginning of a telekinetic temper tantrum. 

“Calm down, kid; have a seat.” Jim grabbed a plastic cup from the cabinet above the sink and filled it with cold tap water. “Drink this, it will calm your body.” He certainly hoped so. Joyce told him specifically that it worked when her boys used to be in the throws of a meltdown. El took the water and began to sip, the tremors in the house subsiding bit by bit with each thirsty gulp.

“Why would they do that?” 

Jim sighed and glanced at the calendar. Two weeks to Christmas. He surveyed the cabin and its trappings. Of course she would be confused, no one probably told her about Christmas and the bizarre little customs surrounding it.

“They probably wanted it for their house, but were too cheap to buy one from a lot… it’s a thing people do around Christmas.”

“Christ… mas?”

Jim nodded. “Yeah, it’s a holiday - kinda like Halloween but with no costumes. Families pick out a tree and decorate it with lights, bulbs, and all sorts of sparkly thingamajigs. They put it up and on Christmas day, they put presents under the tree for their family.”

El nodded. “Oh. Is Joyce doing that?”

“Well, yeah, she’s got two boys.”

“And Mike?”

“It’s just a thing families do.”

He couldn’t mistake the soft, sad look in her big brown eyes. He knew what was coming, and he dreaded it. There hadn’t been a proper Christmas in his house since…

“We don’t have to if it makes you sad. You don’t do it because you lost your family.” Astute as ever.

Jim snorted and attempted a cheery grin. “You’re my family. Do you want a tree?”

El nodded slowly, but then frowned and shook her head.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to chop down one of our beautiful trees. They’ll die.”

Jim chuckled. “Hold on a second, I’ll be right back.”

He was up the ladder to the loft in a flash, there were still quite a few boxes, and he searched for one in particular.

“Okay, I need you to spot me, I’m going to hand you this box… it’s not heavy but it’s awkward.”

El got into position and was soon rewarded with a large, overstuffed cardboard box with the word TREE marked on the top. It made a funny rustling noise as she took it to the center of the living room and set it down. She gave a start when Jim dropped two more boxes to the ground.

“There’s your cruelty-free tree. 100% aluminum.”

El opened the box and smiled. It looked like an odd assortment of branches, but they were pliable, and didn’t have the unmistakable scent of pine. “Wow.”

“It’s nothing grand, but I think it will work,” Jim observed, making a mental note to talk to Joyce about what he could possibly get this strange child who came crashing into his life. 

“But what about the people who are stealing our trees?”

Jim coughed and shrugged. “Want to help me lay more tripwire?”

El nodded enthusiastically and ran for her coat and boots.


End file.
